


Torture and Truth Serum

by screamingsongbird16



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Fun with torture, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Sadistic Jitsui, Spy training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamingsongbird16/pseuds/screamingsongbird16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since every trainee needed to be tested on their ability to withstand torture and truth serum, as well as their ability to administer torture, if it became necessary, Yuuki proved just why he was called the Demon King.  He had his trainees practice on each other.  These were brutal tests.  As hard for the torturer as the one being tortured.  Most of them didn’t want to hurt each other.  But there were always exceptions.  Jitsui being the major one.</p>
<p>AKA Jitsui tortures all the other spies and enjoys every minute of it.  Sadistic Jitsui is sadistic.  Gift fic for Jimmi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jimmi](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jimmi).



            The final months of D-Agency’s spy training were the most brutal.  Those were when the spies were narrowed down to the final few.  And the tests were no longer about who was physically fit or smart enough for their chosen line of work, but about who had the mental and emotional capacity to survive their chosen line of work.  The torture and truth serum tests were what really showed who should still be there, and who needed to be cut.  And since every trainee needed to be tested on their ability to withstand torture and truth serum, as well as their ability to administer torture, if it became necessary, Yuuki proved just why he was called the Demon King.  He had his trainees practice on each other.

            There were rules, obviously.  He drew the line at any damage that they couldn’t heal from within a week.  No permanent injuring was allowed, including anything that would disfigure them.  Sessions lasted an hour.  No more.  And they were strictly monitored, to make sure no one went too far.  They weren’t expected to succeed in making their subject speak every time.  Or even most of the time.  The test for the torturers was mainly to show they had it in them to hurt people for information if necessary.  Even people they knew.  Since betrayal was a constant threat in espionage.

            Trainees being tested for their ability to withstand torture and truth serum passed their test by lasting the full hour without admitting to being a D-Agency spy trainee, a student of Lt. Colonel Yuuki, or any other similar information that would damn them to admit if they were captured in the field.  By the time of these tests, their subconsiousnesses had been altered into layers.  And all the information about D-Agency and their training was safely on the bottom layer.  Even with the truth serum administered, the only way to get that information was if the trainees chose to reveal it of their own free will.

            These were hard tests.  As hard for the torturer as the one being tortured.  After all these months together, most of the remaining trainees were on good terms.  Most of them didn’t want to hurt each other.  But there were always exceptions. 

            Jitsui was one of them.

 

 

* * *

 

Miyoshi

 

            “So?  What exactly have I to look forward to?” asked Miyoshi, staring up at Jitsui with glazed eyes.  The truth serum made his eyes seem almost luminous, even in the dim, room, with its single, uncovered lightbulb.

            “You’ve heard what I did to the last trainee I practiced on, right?” asked Jitsui, to establish a line of truth.

            “Hourai.  Yes.  You dumped honey on him.  Then you dumped ants on him,” Miyoshi said.  “That was funny.”

            “Thank you,” Jitsui said pleasantly.

            “For the record, I never wanted him in our group.  He had some blocks that he couldn’t see past.  Tazaki was the one who brought him in, and it would have been impolite to tell him no, his friend couldn’t sit with us.  I wanted Tazaki.  Not his stupid pet.  And I’m not talking about the pigeons for once,” said Miyoshi.  The truth serum made him more talkative than usual.

            “Don’t worry.  I have something very special planned when it’s my turn to take a crack at Tazaki,” said Jitsui.

            “Holding a grudge?  How very like you,” said Miyoshi. 

            “Whatever do you mean, Miyoshi?”

            “Everyone knows you only poured honey down Hourai’s throat and used that ring gag because he cracked Hatano’s ribs during his torture session,” said Miyoshi.  “But everyone’s fine with what you did, I think.  No one’s going to miss Hourai.  Except maybe Tazaki.  No, not even him now I think about it.  He was getting tired of Hourai being an ass too.”

            “Has anyone ever told you you’re much less condescending when you’re doped to your gills on truth serum?” asked Jitsui, as he finished setting up for their session.

            “No.  They haven’t.”

            “Good.  Because they would have been lying,” said Jitsui.  “And as to your question of what you have to look forward to . . . well, it’s not as physically painful as honey and ants.  But I think for you it will be worse.  See, I got special permission from Lt. Colonel Yuuki to do damage that will actually take you longer than a week to recover from.”

            “I find that hard to believe and think that you’re bluffing,” said Miyoshi.

            “Oh, am I?”  Jitsui uncovered the standing mirror that he’d placed on the table and picked up a pair of scissors.

            Miyoshi’s eyes got even bigger and more luminous as realization set in.  “No.”

            Jitsui flashed his angel smile.  “Yes.”

            “You wouldn’t.  Except that you would.  Because you know my threats of retaliation are empty,” said Miyoshi, speaking the truth against his will.  “Because this is a legitimate training session and I don’t want to seem unprofessional by holding a real grudge over anything that’s done here, even if it does cause me humiliation.  Dammit.”

            Jitsui giggled.

            “I want to hate you for this, and I probably will for awhile once we’re done, but right now I can’t help but admire this sadism and genius you’re employing.”

            “You know how to get me to stop,” said Jitsui.  He stepped up to Miyoshi and snipped off a three inch strand from his bangs, at a ragged angle.

            Miyoshi’s overwide eyes watched as the reddish-brown lock fell into his lap.  When he lifted his eyes again to the mirror, he found himself staring at his own expression of horror.

            “I think I hate you now, Jitsui.”

            Jitsui grabbed a handful of Miyoshi’s hair and dragged Miyoshi’s face up toward his own.  The restraints that kept him chained to the chair kept him from moving too far, and the chair was bolted to the floor, but Jitsui was using no small amount of pressure as he pulled.

            “No you don’t.  You just think you do.  But by the time we’re done, I promise that you’ll truly hate me.”

            Then Jitsui used his scissors to sheer off the entire handful of hair he’d been pulling on, only an inch from the roots.

 

 

* * *

 

Amari

 

            “Stop!  Stop!  Please, Jitsui, don’t!”

            “Hm?” Jitsui tilted his head as though confused.  “Do you really think I’ll change my tactics just because you’re pleading?”

            “No!  I know damn well you won’t, because you’re a sadistic little brat!  Everyone knows that!  But I’m hoping that by screaming loud and long enough, I can stall you!” shouted Amari, honest to a fault, courtesy of the truth serum.

            “Nice try,” Jitsui said.

            “Just keep that thing away from me!”

            “But I went to such trouble to procure it,” said Jitsui, lifting the tarantula out of the jar with one hand.  The spider was the biggest specimen of its kind that Jitsui had ever seen.  It filled his entire hand.

            “I do not appreciate your enthusiasm for this!  No one does!” Amari cried, trying to lean back, away from the teen and the spider.

            “You should,” huffed Jitsui.  “Believe it or not, this is actually to help you.  I’m not the only one who noticed your arachnophobia, you know.”

            “No, you’re just the only one cruel enough to exploit it during a test!”

            “Yes,” Jitsui agreed.  “Now hold still.”

            “No!  No, no no!  Jitsui, don’t!  I swear!”

            “It can hear you know,” said Jitsui.  “And it’s agitated from your shouting.  If you don’t want it to bite you when I put it down on your face, you should probably shut up.”

            Amari tried to.  It was clear that he did.  But his dislike of spiders overrode his good sense and as Jitsui set the huge furry spider down over one of Amari’s eyes, and he realized that it’s itchy little feet spanned all the way from his nose to his ear, he couldn’t help screaming.

            “You should probably keep your mouth closed.  Tarantulas like to hide in holes, you know.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

Tazaki

 

            “What are those?” Tazaki asked weakly, straining against his bonds.

            “Exactly what you think they are,” Jitsui said, holding one of the rounded, oblong shapes between his pointer finger and thumb, right in front of Tazaki’s face, so he had a good clear look.  “Go on.  Tell me what you know they are.”

            “Pigeon eggs,” whispered Tazaki, looking horrified.

            “You really wanted to guess that they were quail eggs, didn’t you?” asked Jitsui.  Even though he already knew the answer.

            “Yes,” admitted Tazaki.  He couldn’t do otherwise, under the effects of truth serum.

            “Why don’t you tell me the difference between pigeon eggs and quail eggs?” asked Jitsui.  “I want to make sure it’s at the forefront of your mind so you can’t make this easier on yourself by pretending you’re eating something that you’re not.”

            “I . . . don’t want . . . to tell . . .”

            “Tell me,” said Jitsui.  Secretly he was impressed.  So far Tazaki seemed to be the best of them at resisting the drugs.  Jitsui didn’t even have a prayer of trying to thwart them in the slightest, and ended up spilling his guts about everything he was asked.  Except the things relating to D-Agency.  That information was safely at the bottom layer of his subconscious.

            “Pigeon eggs . . . they’re white.  Sometimes a little darker inside.  Quail eggs . . . they’re speckled,” Tazaki grit out.  “Blue inner shells.  Also –”

            Jitsui shoved one of the pigeon eggs into Tazaki’s mouth, shell and all.  It smashed open against his teeth and tongue and Tazaki made a horrible, horrified sound that was music to Jitsui’s ears. 

            “How do they taste, Tazaki?” Jitsui asked.  He kept his hand pressed over Tazaki’s mouth so the older man couldn’t spit the egg out. 

            Tazaki’s curse was muffled against his hand.

            “I didn’t catch that.  But don’t worry.  I’ll ask you again when your mouth is empty . . . which might not be for a while, actually,” said Jitsui.  He looked at the full basket of pigeon eggs on the table.  “We’ve got dozens of these, and I refuse to let them go to waste.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

Kaminaga

 

            “I really don’t think this is fair!  I object!  Object!  Object!  Ow!  Ow!  Ow!”

            “If you want out, just say so,” said Jitsui.  “Tell me all those things you’re not supposed to about where you trained and who taught you.”

            Kaminaga grimaced.  “Now I understand why everyone comes back from their sessions with you looking dead inside.  You’re a sadistic little shit.”

            “Someone’s salty,” said Jitsui.

            “That is not funny!” shouted Kaminaga.  “Ow!  Making, ow!  Puns while you urgh!  Freaking pour salt . . . dammit . . . literally into wounds that you caused!  Ow!  Earlier!  Arrhh!  Today!”             Jitsui stopped shaking the salt shaker over the open cat scratches on Kaminaga’s forearms, and flashed his angel smile before rubbing the salt into them.

            “AHHHHHH!  I hate you so much!  This is foul play!”

            “You know, I didn’t whine half this much when you were water torturing me last week,” said Jitsui.  “But that could have been because I was busy drowning.  Oh, now that I think of it, and now that I’ve got you in this position, maybe you can tell me.  Why do so many of you choose water torture for these sessions?”

            Kaminaga grunted and twisted his face up, but answered as Jitsui knew he would.  “It’s easy.  Easier . . . than thinking up new stuff.  Owwww!  Also . . . it’s impersonal.  Easier not to . . . argh . . . see your friends’ faces.”

            “Hm.  Sounds to me like you’re slacking.”

            “And you’re – AUGH!  Cheating!”

            “I resent that implication.  I didn’t tell you to stand between all those hungry stray cats and that bucket of chicken soup.”

            “You threw the bucket of soup on me!  OW!  Where did you even get all those cats!”

            “Hatano caught them for me.”

            “Kk!  Of course he did.  Ha-AH!  I c-can’t wait, ugh.  To see what you do to him!”

            Jitsui frowned.  “I hope you’re not implying I’m going to go easy on him.”

            “Hell no,” Kaminaga laughed painfully.  “We all know you get off on this.  And how you – urk!  Feel about Hatano.  We’ve got a pool going.  Odds are four-to-one that you’ll break him.”

            Jitsui froze.

            Kaminaga grimaced.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to tell you that.  And the bets are only half serious.”

            Jitsui stared at him wordlessly for several more seconds.  Then grabbed a handful of salt and threw it in Kaminaga’s eyes.

            “AHHH!  Dammit Jitsui!”

 

* * *

 

Fukumoto and Odagiri

 

            The two quietest trainees blinked as the bags were pulled off their heads, and their eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room.  Confusion crossed both their faces as they saw the other, restrained on the opposite side of the table.

            “I got special permission from Lt. Colonel Yuuki to do your sessions together,” said Jitsui.  “I wanted to try using one of you against the other.  I’m really surprised no one else has tried that.  But it’s just been water torture, water torture, getting punched around a bit, and more water torture.”

            “Hatano didn’t use pressure points on you?” asked Fukumoto.

            “Oh, he did.  But he’s done that on everyone.  Besides, it’s only just a scaled up version of what he does in no holds barred fights,” said Jitsui.  He’d been disappointed that Hatano hadn’t upped his game.  It was like no one but him saw how much fun these sessions could be.  The only other one who was getting really nasty with their torture sessions was Miyoshi.  Jitsui actually appreciated how hard Miyoshi had tried to get him back for cutting his hair when it was his turn to torture Jitsui.  Jitsui had never known how much pain a simple needle could cause when it was slid under your skin, parallel to your muscles, and twisted just so.  It had actually been sort of beautiful in a painful way.  He’d told Miyoshi as much.  Constantly.  The truth serum dosages weren’t measured specifically for their weights, so the smaller spies tended to be affected by it harder.  Miyoshi had been rather put out that Jitsui spent his entire session spouting admiration for his methods.

            “You sound like you wish someone had tried to use you and Hatano against each other,” said Odagiri, drawing Jitsui back to the present.

            “Hm, not really,” said Jitsui.  “It would have meant that someone was actually trying, and getting creative which would have been nice.  But I did wait to do this session until close to the end of all these for a reason.”

            “So no one would copy it,” stated Fukumoto.

            “Yes,” Jitsui said.  “But enough stalling.”

            By now everyone knew to try to keep their torturer talking for as long as possible at the beginning.  The hour started ticking away as soon as the black bags came off their heads.

            Jitsui opened the box on the table and took out a paper bag, folded and taped shut.  When he opened the paper bag, there was another paper bag inside.  And inside that, was a foil covered dish.  It was actually covered in layer after layer of foil.  But even before Jitsui started removing them, a faint but horrible scent could be smelled.

            “Jitsui, what is that?” asked Odagiri.

            “You’ll see,” said Jitsui, diligently unwrapping his prize. 

            “I’d rather not.”

            “You can tell me all your secrets if you want out.”

            “I used to shoplift lipstick from the local corner store when I was a child,” Odagiri revealed, seemingly against his will.  Jitsui wondered if a person’s alcohol tolerance reflected their truth serum sensitivity.  If so, Odagiri was in trouble.

            “Did you wear it?” Fukumoto asked, curiously.

            “Yes.  Dammit, Fukumoto.”

            “Those aren’t the secrets I meant,” Jitsui said, because though this was very interesting, and could have been fun in its own way, he recognized it for the stalling tactic that it was.  And he had more fun in store with his own plans.  “If you want the session to end, just spill your guts about where you trained and who your teacher was.  But until you decide to do so, feast your eyes on this.”

            With a flourish, he revealed the dish.  The only cover that remained on it now was a clear glass lid.  Even with that lid on it, the smell around it was almost unbearable.

            “What is that?” asked Odagiri, his face twisted up disgustedly.

            “Do you recognize it, Fukumoto?” asked Jitsui.  “I’ll give you a hint.  You made it three weeks ago, but the leftovers disappeared from the icebox.”

            He watched recognition dawn on Fukumoto’s face.  “My fish stew.”

            “Correct.”

            “But why do you have it?”

            “Because I stole it in preparation for this session,” said Jitsui.  “I’m going to force feed it to Odagiri, and you’re going to watch.”

            “What?” cried both of the taller spies at once.

            Odagiri looked sick at the mere thought.  Fukumoto looked horrified.

            “Jitsui, you can’t do that,” said Fukumoto.  “He’ll die.”

            “No, I talked with a doctor about this,” Jitsui lied.  “It will only make him really, really sick for a week.  A week and a half tops.  Lt. Colonel Yuuki approved it.”

            Fortunately for him, he wasn’t doped up on truth serum and could lie as much as he wanted.  He hadn’t been the one to steal Fukumoto’s fish stew.  That had been Hatano, who had used it to lure in stray cats.  What Jitsui had now, in the dish that Fukumoto’s fish stew had been in, was hakarl, which was horrible smelling cured shark meat from Skandinavia.  He’d mixed it with soy sauce, beaten raw eggs, and some vegetables that he’d overcooked and soaked in black coffee overnight, to give it a nice, rotten appearance and taste.  Hakarl tasted about as horrible as it smelled, but it was perfectly safe to eat.  As was everything else in the dish.  It would just be extremely nasty, and near unpalatable.  Odagiri would be gagging on every bite.  He might even throw up.  And Fukumoto would be in mental anguish over what he believed his cooking was doing to his closest friend.

            “Don’t,” Fukumoto begged.  “I’ll eat it instead, Jitsui.”

            “No, Fuku,” Odagiri argued.  “I – AUCH!”

            Jitsui had taken advantage of his open mouth to shove a spoonful in.  “Sorry,” he said, “but we have less than an hour, and I want to make sure you have time to eat it all.  After all, we don’t want to let Fukumoto’s cooking go to waste.”

 

 

 

* * *

Hatano

 

            Hatano’s eyes were glazed over and luminous from the drugs, just like Miyoshi’s had been.  Jitsui really liked that look.  Something about it was just very aesthetically pleasing.  Hatano’s eyes followed Jitsui, as his friend hopped up to sit on the table in front of him, content just to observe his final victim for a minute or two.  Sometimes anticipation was a torture all its own.  Waiting for this day had been for Jitsui.  He’d thought long and hard about what to do for Hatano’s torture session.  But he’d kept in mind the bet that the others had made.

            He didn’t plan to go easy on Hatano.  He knew Hatano wasn’t that weak.  But he also recognized that he needed to make sure he didn’t go overboard.  For some reason, when it came to Hatano, he felt a stronger urge to toe the line than he had with anyone else.  Actually, he felt the urge to leap clear across the line.  But all plans had to be approved by Lt. Colonel Yuuki before the start of any session.  And Jitsui didn’t really want to break Hatano.  The other boy was his best friend.

            “Shouldn’t you be doing something other than just staring at me?” asked Hatano finally.  “It’s been five minutes.”

            “I’m letting you anticipate what I’m going to do to you,” said Jitsui.  “I know you’ve heard the horror stories.”

            “Yes,” Hatano said.  “Everyone says you’re the worst.  I hope you’re not planning to go easy on me just because you like me.”  Then he tried to give his usual shit-eating grin, but his nervousness shone through in his expression.  But still, the words he’d spoken were the truth.  He couldn’t help but do otherwise, drugged as he was.

            Jitsui felt a surge of adoration, and reached forward to pat Hatano on the top of his head.  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

            Hatano swallowed thickly, and cast his gaze around the room, like he was looking for clues about what was coming.  His breathing was heavy, Jitsui noted.  He let his hand fall down to Hatano’s throat and rested two fingers against the side of his neck, taking his pulse.  His heartrate was hammering.  A side effect of the truth serum, most likely.  It really wasn’t fair that Hatano and Jitsui got the same dosage as everyone else, despite their smaller size.  But then, it was realistic.  He doubted that any enemies who doped them would take their smaller stature into account either and scale the dose back for them.

            “Just get on with it, Jitsui,” said Hatano finally.

            “Hm?  Is the wait killing you?” Jitsui teased.

            “Yes,” said Hatano.

            Jitsui gave his angel smile.  “Are you scared?”

            Hatano swallowed heavily again.  “Yes.”

            “Of me?” Jitsui asked, locking his eyes on Hatano’s face and drinking in the image of him bound and glassy-eyed.

            “Yes.  No,” Hatano said.  It seemed like he might be trying to fight the serum, because now he was panting.  “I’m terrified of you.”

            Jitsui tilted his head slightly in confusion.  Being scared and being terrified were two different things.  Scared was what he expected, right here, right now, because he in a few minutes he was going to be torturing Hatano, and Hatano would have to be an idiot not to be scared of that.  But terrified?  That made it seem like the terror was personal.

            “Of me?” Jitsui asked for clarification.

            Hatano gritted his teeth and dropped his gaze to the floor.  “Yes,” he growled.

            “Not of me torturing you, but of me personally?”

            “Yes,” Hatano repeated.

            “Why?” Jitsui asked.

            Hatano was definitely trying to fight the drug now.  Jitsui saw sweat beading along the sides of his face, and his breathing grew heavier.  But he didn’t have a chance.  The only way to beat the truth serum was to keep the information they didn’t want it revealing on the bottom layer of their subconscious.  And getting information down there wasn’t that easy.  Hatano had no chance of winning against the drug now.  It was only a matter of seconds.

            “Because I love you!” Hatano finally blurted out.

            Jitsui nearly fell off the table.  “What?”

            “I don’t – I mean I think – I think it’s love.  I don’t know what kind.  I’ve never . . . loved anyone before,” Hatano ground out haltingly.  “Except maybe my father when I was really small.  But that would have been so long ago.  I don’t remember a time when I didn’t hate him.  And there was never anyone else.”

            Tears streamed down Hatano’s face.  In the dim light of the room’s single lightbulb, his eyes looked positively molten.  “But now there’s you.  And the others.  The others trainees who are still here.  Our group.  I was so scared one of you would get cut.  I’m still scared.  I don’t want any of you to go.  You all make me feel like I have a family.  I think.  The others, I think I love them like brothers.  But I’m not sure.  I don’t know.  I don’t know.  But you . . . I don’t know.  It’s different for you.  It’s more.  All I know is you can hurt me worse than them because of it.  And it terrifies me!”

            All during Hatano’s outburst, Jitsui could only stare dumbly.  Suddenly, there was silence stretching between the two.  Hatano’s eyes had locked on Jitsui’s, shimmering with the drugs that he was so doped up on that he couldn’t hold back the torrent of secrets he’d been keeping bottled up.  But when Jitsui didn’t respond, Hatano’s gaze just didn’t fall.  His entire face fell.  And Jitsui realized that his best friend was about to shatter right in front of his eyes.  He knew he needed to do something to stop that from happening.  But he couldn’t help thinking that he’d never seen anything this beautiful before.

            Hatano gave a dry sob.  “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I –”

            Jitsui slapped a hand over his mouth.

            Hatano stared up at him.  And then his eyes widened.  And he screamed against Jitsui’s hand and tried to jerk his head to the side, so that he could get his mouth open.  Because Jitsui had been holding a yellow lantern chili in his hand, and he’d forced it into Hatano’s mouth.

            Jitsui moved quickly so that he was behind Hatano, and could hold his head still easier, while keeping his hand over Hatano’s mouth.

            “Sorry,” he said softly, and timed his words so that they’d fall between Hatano’s screams and whimpers.  “I shouldn’t have let you keep going like that.  That wasn’t fair of me.  But don’t worry.  You didn’t ruin anything.”

            Hatano slumped back into his hold briefly.  Maybe in relief.  Or maybe just as a ploy to try to escape, because after a moment, he redoubled his efforts.

            “We’ll figure it out, when I’m not supposed to be torturing you, and you’re not doped up on truth serum,” Jitsui said, then hesitated, realizing things might not be that easy.  He might have let Hatano keep talking too long.  They might not be able to go back from here.  “If . . . if you still want to.”

            He didn’t know whether or not Hatano heard that last part.  His best friend pretty busy thrashing, and screaming.

 

 

* * *

 

Epilogue

 

            It was a quiet night at the training facility.  Those weren’t unusual lately.  Having to torture each other led to a lot of stress and strained relations.  But tonight things seemed more strained than usual, to all eight of the remaining trainees.  Probably because Hatano and Jitsui weren’t talking. 

            It was hard to be amicable to someone who had been torturing you just hours previously.  But everyone had gotten so used to the youngest two trainees being inseparable.  Despite most of them betting otherwise, a part of all of them thought that the two boys would be able to take the situation in stride.  But when Hatano was released from the recovery room, he didn’t seek out Jitsui.  Instead he chose an unoccupied corner of the common room, a clear signal that he didn’t want to be bothered.  So the others respected his unspoken request.  It was an unspoken rule that on days they were tortured, the others didn’t refuse any reasonable requests. 

            But tonight worried looks were exchanged between the older spies, when Hatano, who’d bounced back from every other torture session, just curled in on himself in his chair and stared at the wall.

            “Did you break him?” Miyoshi asked Jitsui softly, trying not to look as concerned as he clearly was.

            “He didn’t fail the test, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Jitsui, irritably.

            “That’s not what I’m asking,” said Miyoshi. 

            Jitsui scowled and looked away.

            “What did you do to him?”

            Jitsui didn’t feel like talking to Miyoshi right now.  So he didn’t.  He closed his book and stood up.  “Good night, Miyoshi,” he said, then headed toward the dormitory.

            This facility was a temporary one.  Soon they would be moving to the permanent one.  The one that only the trainees who completed their training and officially became D-Agency spies were allowed to know the location of.  Jitsui hoped that the new facility would have decent heating.  This temporary facility was far too cold.

            Familiar footsteps creaked from the hallway, right after Jitsui had pulled the covers over and around himself, trying to cocoon himself off from the cold.  He and Hatano had been sharing sleeping space for awhile now, ever since the weather started getting cold.  Otherwise Jitsui’s shivering kept every other trainee awake.  Jitsui was acutely aware that he might have to spend this night alone, but when he heard Hatano’s enter the dorm, he sat up.  And he watched and waited to see what Hatano would do.

            Hatano went to his own bed and opened the footlocker to retrieve his sleeping clothes.  His movements were much more lethargic than usual, and Jitsui noticed that he buttoned his sleep shirt off by two buttons.  But he decided not to bring that to Hatano’s attention.  He waited, holding his breath to see what Hatano would do next.  And finally, finally, after what seemed like forever, Hatano turned to Jitsui.

            “Is it still okay?” he asked.  His voice was hoarse and he formed his words clumsily.  It was the first time Jitsui had heard him speak since the torture session, and he realized for the first time that Hatano had come away from it with more than just psychological scars.  The pepper had literally burned his mouth.  Maybe his throat too.  All that screaming certainly hadn’t done his throat any good.  Jitsui suddenly felt so stupid for not realizing that had happened.

            But Hatano had asked him a question, practically thrown him an olive branch, and Jitsui couldn’t let it go to waste.  He nodded quickly, and pulled up his covers so that Hatano could crawl in with him.  Then once Hatano had done so, Jitsui reached over him to tuck the blankets in beneath him, cocooning his friend in with him.  Then he promptly wrapped his arms around Hatano and clung to him, just for the sake of clinging to him.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

            “You were just following orders,” Hatano croaked. 

            “I let things go too far.”

            “Not if we’re still okay.  We are still okay, right?” Hatano asked hesitantly.

            “Yes,” Jitsui promised.  “We’re fine.”

            Hatano gave a soft sigh that was clearly born of relief, then closed his eyes.

            “Hatano?”

            “Hm?”

            Jitsui squeezed Hatano tighter, and pulled the smaller boy closer to him.  Usually, when they woke up, Hatano was the one holding Jitsui, hugging him in his sleep, as Jitsui lay sprawled half on top of Hatano, using his chest, or shoulder, or sometimes even his face as a pillow.  But this time Jitsui wanted to be the one who held Hatano, and so he cradled him close.

            “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

            “I can’t help it,” whispered Hatano.  “I’ve never felt this before.  I don’t know how to handle it or what I’m supposed to do.”

            “We’ll figure it out,” said Jitsui.  “It’ll all be alright.  I promise.”

            For a long time, Hatano didn’t respond.  He waited so long that Jitsui didn’t think he was going to.  Then he felt Hatano’s breathing change and realized Hatano had fallen asleep.  And that, he realized, was a response all by itself.  Not long ago, Hatano didn’t let anyone touch him outside of sparring matches.  Now he cuddled up with Jitsui, and slept next to him every night, to keep him from shivering and losing sleep.  And even after today’s events, being tortured by Jitsui, and forced to confess things that terrified him, he still trusted Jitsui enough to fall asleep in his arms.

            He trusted Jitsui.  They were going to be alright.

            Jitsui smiled, content, and pressed a quick, chaste kiss against Hatano’s temple, before closing his eyes to join him in sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

            Notes: This fic was written as a thank you for Jimmi who drew me this wonderful piece of fanart: [http://i-dedicate-this-kill-to-the-fans.tumblr.com/post/146797301984/after-i-read-this-fanfic-i-couldnt-resist-drawing ](http://i-dedicate-this-kill-to-the-fans.tumblr.com/post/146797301984/after-i-read-this-fanfic-i-couldnt-resist-drawing)for my other fic “Sunshine.”  This fic is kind of a companion piece to Sunshine, but you don’t need to read one to enjoy the other.  Jimmi asked for “Jitsui either being sadistic to his enemies, or being a total dickwad to the rest of the D agency (with a bit of fluff thrown in if it's on the D agency)”  Hopefully this delivers. :)

 

            Side Note: Jitsui had an ulterior motive for choosing his methods of torture.  He wanted to make sure he never got assigned the chore of cooking for their group again.  And it worked.

And another note: This chapter now has fan art.  Tivanny had drawn an illustration for that wonderful scene where Jitsui tortures Miyoshi and cuts his hair.  Please look at it to your heart's desire at: <http://tivanny2292.tumblr.com/image/149835833236>


	2. The Other Torture And Truth Serum Incident

Torture and Truth Serum was originally just going to be a oneshot.  But artists Jimmi and Tivanny have been spoiling me rotten with fan art based off my fics.  And then Tivanny just posted this picture: <http://tivanny2292.tumblr.com/image/148688070376>  of Jitsui smiling so sweetly as he lovingly tries to force feed Hatano more hot peppers, which was inspired by this fic, and set sometime in its future.  So I sat down to try to write a ficlet for that scene . . . but somehow this happened instead?  I meant to write a sequel . . . accidentally wrote a prequel instead.  Funny how that happens sometimes. :P 

 

Ah, so Jimmi and Tivanny, this other torture and truth serum incident is for you both!  Neither of you particularly wanted or asked for it, but you get it anyway, lol.  It’s not part of any deal, just an attempt at me showing my appreciation for the two of you.  I hope you enjoy it! :)

 

* * *

 

 

            Hourai smirked as he pulled the black bag off of Hatano’s head and drank in the sight of his nemesis bound to a chair that was bolted to the concrete floor.  The youngest trainee’s eyes were glazed from the dosage of truth serum that Lt. Colonel Yuuki had administered five minutes earlier.  But to Hourai’s annoyance, that was the only thing about him that seemed unusual.  Otherwise, he looked perfectly at ease, chained to that chair.  He actually looked bored.  He didn’t look afraid at all.  Hourai planned to fix that.

            “For the next hour you’re all mine, little rat,” Hourai said, grabbing a handful of his hair and yanking Hatano’s head back, forcing the boy to look up at him.  “I bet you’re regretting all those times you mouthed off to me now.”

            Hatano stared at him for several seconds, as though it took that long for the question to sink in.  Then a smirk crossed his face.  “No.”

            “What’s that?”

            “No.  I regret nothing,” said Hatano.

            “We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune once the truth serum kicks in.”

            “It’s been five minutes.  I counted.  It has already kicked in.  And I still regret nothing.”

            Hourai let go of Hatano’s hair and socked him in the jaw.

            “So you have a little tolerance.  Goody for you.  We’ll see if you still feel the same way when I punch you so hard your teeth start flying out of your scrawny little mouth.” 

            Hourai struck Hatano in the jaw again, right where his jawbone met his cheek, hard enough to snap his head sideways.

            Suddenly, behind him, there was a sharp rap on the one way mirror.  Lt. Colonel Yuuki was on the other side of that glass.  A tap on the glass like that meant that he was going too far.

            Hourai wasn’t really surprised.  They had been told not to take too many face shots, if they were administering a beating.  Black eyes often took longer than a week to heal, and split eyebrows left scars.  Not to mention things like broken noses and broken jaws.  And teeth didn’t grow back.

            “It’s alright,” said Hatano, suddenly looking at the glass.  “He didn’t hit me very hard, and he can’t knock out my back teeth.  My father knocked them out a long time ago.”

            What the hell? Hourai wondered.  Was the kid making fun of him? 

            “I hit you plenty hard!” he said angrily.

            “No you didn’t.”

            “Yes, I did!”

            “Uh uh.”

            Hourai glanced at the mirror.  “I don’t think the truth serum’s working on him.”

            He didn’t get a response to that.  Oh well.

            “Oh, I forgot.  I’m supposed to mention that all you have to do to get out of this beating is admit where you did your spy training, and who your teacher was,” said Hourai.  Him actually mentioning D-Agency or Yuuki’s name was against protocols, since the trainees all knew each other, and knew the others knew all about those already.  Yuuki had deemed it against the point of the exercise to try to trick each other into talking about things that they normally talked about every day.  The interrogator, therefore, was not allowed to even say the agency’s or Yuuki’s name.  “You’re going to want to spill your guts before the end of it.  So just make sure you speak up loud and clear when you do.”

            “I’m not even a little scared of you,” Hatano stated.

            Hourai couldn’t wait for the truth serum to kick in.  He was ready to see the little brat cowering already.

            In the meantime, he started punching him.  Hatano’s chest and stomach weren’t really big targets, but they were the easiest places to hit.  It was a little surprising, Hourai thought, however.  He expected them to be nice soft targets.  Instead it was like striking lead.  And Hatano, annoying brat that he was, couldn’t keep his mouth shut any other time.  Except now.  He was always cheeky at lunch time, insulting others, bantering with his betters.  He even argued with their instructors, up to and including Lt. Colonel Yuuki.  But now?  Not a sound.  Not even a wince or a hiss.  He just sat there, looking bored, like he didn’t even feel the punches.  It made Hourai even more furious, and made him hit harder.

            After ten minutes of this, he was exhausted.  Sweat ran in rivers down his back and the sides of his face.  And Hatano was still just staring up at him, looking bored.

            “You look tired,” the cheeky little bastard said.

            Hourai spit on the ground.  “Are you ready to talk yet?”

            “We’re talking now,” said Hatano, smirking.

            “I mean are you ready to spill your guts yet?”

            “No.  Why would I be?  Because you gave me a few love taps?”

            Hourai socked him again in the face.  This time he aimed for the boy’s eye.  His punch connected.  And he was pleased to hear Hatano inhale sharply.

            Less pleased to hear the two raps on the glass behind him.  That was his second strike.  If he crossed the line again, the torture session would end early. 

            “You’re really not very good at this,” said Hatano.

            “Says the boy who’ll have a black eye by this evening,” said Hourai. 

            “It’s inconvenient.  But black eyes never made anyone confess anything,” said Hatano.  “This makes you look worse than me, because Lt. Colonel Yuuki specifically said not to mess up each other’s faces.  Now everyone’s going to know that I goaded you into crossing the line.”

            “You didn’t goad me!”

            “I totally goaded you.  And I’m on truth serum.  So you should know I’m not lying,” said Hatano.

            Hourai looked back at the one way mirror again.  “The truth serum is really not working on this brat.  I think you should give him some more!”

            “This is why you’re going to get cut,” said Hatano.

            “What’s that?”

            “Because you can’t see past what you want to see,” Hatano continued.  “Everybody knows it.  You decide on what you want things to be, and then you refuse to accept any evidence that refutes it.”

            “I do not!”

            “You do.  It’s why you hate me and Jitsui so much,” said Hatano.  “Well, that and you’re jealous of us.  You think we stole yours and Megami’s places in Miyoshi’s group.  But you looked at us the first day and you decided we were weak, and useless, and that we were going to get cut just because we were so young.  Other people thought that too, at first.  I know Kaminaga did.  And Odagiri.  But they changed their minds when we gave them a reason to.  But you still refuse to see what’s right in front of your face.  You’re mentally crippling yourself.”

            “Shut up,” growled Hourai.

            “Jitsui’s scored higher than you on every single written test.  And you’ve never beaten me in a sparring match.  But you’re so sure you’re superior to us.  Even though you have no evidence.”

            “I said shut up!”  Hourai stepped back, because he was about to smack Hatano in his face again, and get his third strike.  He retreated to the other side of the table.

            “Even now, you’re still demonstrating your blindness.  You think you hurt me because you hit me a bunch of times.  All you did was rip open your knuckles.  I barely even felt your punches.”

            “The hell you didn’t.”

            “I didn’t,” said Hatano.  “I have a high pain tolerance.  There’s nothing you can do to me with your bare hands, without breaking the guidelines for this test, that will cause me enough pain to even be tempted to talk about the things that would make me fail.”

            Hourai glared at him, feeling a slow, simmering rage rise up.  He didn’t think he’d ever hated anyone as much as he did the little brat Hatano at that moment.  Ever since Miyoshi had invited Hatano and Jitsui to start sitting with their group at lunch, things had started changing.  Hourai found himself being edged out.  The little brats took so much joy in showing him up.  They flaunted everything in his face, turned his friends against him.  Tazaki had once been one of Hourai’s staunch supporters.  Hourai had been the one pulling along, helping him stay at the top, keeping Tazaki with him.  Then Tazaki had started lagging behind in hand to hand combat, until Hatano started tutoring him.  And then, just like that, Tazaki was friends with Hatano, forgetting about Hourai.  Suddenly he was doing pointless things like teaching Hatano sleight of hand tricks, and hanging out with him outside of class.  Hatano had stolen his friend, turned Tazaki against him.  Then Megami, the only other one to see the brats for what they were, had gotten cut, and now Hourai was alone, as the brats turned more and more of his allies against him.  If only Hourai could somehow trick Hatano into going before their lunch group while he was still under the effects of truth serum, so he could get him to confess what he was doing.  Except he was somehow thwarting the truth serum now.  But maybe that was the key . . .

            “How are you doing it?” demanded Hourai.

            Hatano looked up at him hazily.  “Doing what?”

            “Don’t play dumb with me!  How did you cheat the truth serum?”

            “Oh.  I didn’t.”

            “Don’t lie!”

            “I can’t lie.  If I could, I would give you some convoluted fake way of how I got past it, just for fun.  But I’m well and truly under the influence.”

            “How are you cheating?  I know you found a way!  You thought it would be funny, beating the truth serum, then making me doubt myself!” shouted Hourai.  “You wanted to discredit me.  You wanted to make me look like an idiot!”

            “You make yourself look like enough of an idiot without my help,” said Hatano, staring at him with glazed, half lidded eyes.

            Hourai snapped.  He gripped the table with both hands, wrenched it so that it was at an angle, and charged forward, slamming the hard metal furniture into Hatano.  It’s corner struck him in the left side of his chest, hard, every bit of force that Hourai could manage to find behind it, and Hourai was pleased to hear Hatano finally gasp out in pain.

            “Felt that, did you?” he asked, viciously.

            Behind him he heard three sharp raps on the glass.

            He ignored them and pulled the table back.  Then charged forward with it again.  This time all he got out of Hatano was a slight hiss.  Even angrier now, he pulled the table back, even further than he had the first time, and sprinted forward, pushing it, as hard and fast as he could.  He struck Hatano again, just as the door flew open, and Lt. Colonel Yuuki stomped in.

            “Enough, Hourai!”

            Hatano’s eyes bulged and he made a wheezing sound, that left Hourai feeling very satisfied.  He let go of the table and stepped away from it.  “Yes, sir.”

            Yuuki glared at him.  “Congratulations.  You’re the first trainee to go too far and get a torture session ended early.  That was an excellent demonstration of your own lack of control.”

            “Sorry, sir,” said Hourai.  But he wasn’t sorry at all.  He would gladly do this again.

            Yuuki seemed to sense this, and glared at him.  “You receive no marks for today’s session.  Something you can ill afford, with your recent physical test scores.”

            “Sorry, sir,” Hourai said again.

            Yuuki turned to Hatano and limped toward the brat.  Then he gripped the table and pulled it back, so that it wasn’t crushing into Hatano’s chest.  “Are you alright, Hatano?”

            “My ribs are cracked, sir,” said Hatano.  “But other than that, I’m fine.”

            Yuuki snorted.  “You’ve had cracked ribs before.”

            “Yes, sir.  Many times.”

            Yuuki uncuffed Hatano from his chair, but held him down when he went to stand.  “Wait.”  Then he began unbuttoning Hatano’s shirt.

            “This isn’t necessary, sir,” said Hatano.

            “If I want your opinion, I’ll order you to give it,” said Yuuki.  Then he glanced up at Hourai who was edging toward the door.  “And I didn’t dismiss you, Hourai.  Go stand in the corner.”

            “What?” demanded Hourai.

            “Go stand in the corner.”

            “You forgot to tell him to put on a dunce hat first, Lt. Colonel Yuuki-san,” said Hatano.  And to Hourai’s disgust, that didn’t get him a reprimand.  It wasn’t fair.

            “Just stay still, boy.”

            “But I can unbutton my own shirt.”

            “And you can stay still, unless you feel like spending the night in the infirmary.”

            Hatano gave a wordless whine, but must have obeyed, because there was silence for several seconds, as Yuuki finished opening his shirt, and Hourai went and stood in the corner, humiliated.

            “Does this hurt?” Yuuki asked.

            Hourai glanced over his shoulder and saw Yuuki pressing against a red mark that stood out against Hatano’s pale skin, on his chest.

            “Yes.  A little.”

            “Try twisting.”

            “Still hurts a little.  Sir.”

            “Stand up.  Slowly.  And leave your shirt unbuttoned.  I’m taking you to get x-rays,” said Yuuki.

            “But that’s not necessary, sir,” said Hatano.  “They’re only cracked.”

            “Your ribs feel odd.  I’m not willing to leave this to chance.”

            “But they’re only cracked,” Hatano whined.  “I can tell.  They’ve been cracked and broken so many times.  I can tell the difference.”

            “Why am I the one in trouble for screwing up this session when he’s the one cheating and not on truth serum?” demanded Hourai.

            “Shut up, Hourai,” Yuuki said curtly.

            “Yeah, shut up Hourai,” echoed Hatano cheekily.

            “You be quiet too, and come along.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Yuuki frowned at the image that the medic assigned to D-Agency’s training handed him.  He recognized the pictures as x-rays of a ribcage.  But he also recognized the wrongness of what he was seeing.

            “What the hell am I looking at?”

            “Trainee Hatano’s ribs,” said the medic.

            “I know that.  Why do they look like they’re swollen?”

            “What you’re seeing is remodeling of the bone,” said the medic.

            “I’ve seen x-rays of broken bones before.  Even broken bones that have healed.  They don’t look like that,” said Yuuki curtly.

            “These bones look odd because they’ve been broken so many times that the remodeling is extensive,” said the medic.  “You’ve heard the common misconception that broken bones heal stronger?”

            “That’s not entirely a misconception,” Yuuki said.

            “No.  The bone remodels into a sort of callous at the break site.  So for a time, the bone is thicker and stronger at the spot where it was broken than the rest of the bone is.  But over time the bone callous deteriorates.  After several years the break site becomes only as strong as the rest of the bone.  But right now these ribs –”

            “Are completely calloused,” Yuuki said disgustedly, and set the x-ray down.  How many times had they been broken to end up looking like that?

            “It might be more accurate to say the callouses have become scars,” said the medic.  “Whether they’re permanent or not, I don’t know.  This isn’t something that has ever been documented.  But that’s not all.”

            The medic handed Yuuki another set of x-rays.  Yuuki took them and scowled.

            “Trainee Hatano’s arms.  He balked when I told him to take off his pants for his legs to be x-rayed, and refused unless you gave the order.”

            “That’s not necessary,” said Yuuki, setting aside the x-rays of Hatano’s arms.

            “This is the sort of abuse which should be reported,” the medic said, pursing his lips with disapproval.

            “Should Hatano fail his training, this will be reported and dealt with before he returns home.  But as long as he passes, it’s not a problem.”

            “One more thing you should be aware of, Lt. Colonel,” said the medic.  “Trainee Hatano’s ribs were only cracked by this incident, but they were badly cracked.  If not for the fact that they are entirely covered by callouses, his ribs would have badly broken.  I would be fishing for pieces of them in his heart, and you would have General Staff Offices breathing down your neck for letting one of your trainees torture a teenager to death.”

            “Then we are fortunate that did not happen,” said Yuuki.

            “Do you intend to expel Trainee Hourai?”

            “Hourai will not be around long enough to harm anyone else,” said Yuuki.

            “And you’ll dispense with this idiocy of having the trainees torture each other?”

            “No.  That idiocy is why Hourai will not be around this time next week.”

            Yuuki would simply reassign Hourai’s first session of being tortured to be with Jitsui.  Jitsui would learn of the day’s events within the hour.  And he would not be pleased.

  

* * *

 

 

            Jitsui was not pleased.  Hatano had yet to be released from the recovery room, and multiple rumors were circulating as to the reason.  Hourai knew something.  The smug bastard looked pleased with himself, as he sat at the dinner table, with the few remaining trainees, laughing and trying to joke with them.  But to their credit, none of them were joking back.

            “Sit with us,” said Miyoshi, stopping by Jitsui’s elbow, holding his own tray.

            “I don’t want to sit with him,” Jitsui said flatly. 

            “If you don’t, he wins,” pointed out Miyoshi. 

            “He did something to Hatano.”

            “And next week I’ll be the one torturing Hatano,” said Miyoshi.  “The week after that, Amari.  And after him, I believe it’s Fukumoto, but I didn’t bother memorizing the schedule that far ahead.  Are you going to avoid us all too?”

            “No.  You know I’m not that petty.  But he did something more to Hatano.  You can tell by looking at him.”

            “Have a little faith in your friend,” said Miyoshi.  “And sit with us.  Because you belong with us.  And Hourai doesn’t.”

            Jitsui followed Miyoshi.  And though there were plenty of seats on the ends, room was immediately made for both of them, on a bench between Tazaki and Kaminaga.  Two people Hourai had previously been on good terms with.  That was a message, clear as day.  Or at least it should have been.  It was probably wasted on Hourai, who couldn’t pick up on hints to save his life.

            “Oh, hi Jitsui,” said Hourai, giving him a smile that didn’t meet his eyes.  “Wow.  You look rather lonely today.”

            “Did you miss the fact that I walked up to the table with him?” asked Miyoshi before Jitsui could speak.

            Hourai completely missed the cue of solidarity.  “I was talking about how he wasn’t with that little rat he likes to hang out with.  I know you probably didn’t notice he wasn’t around, since he’s so short and hard to see.  But behold.  Our table is rat free.  Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

            “I really hope you’re not bragging about beating up a high school student,” said Odagiri, who normally remained quiet during mealtimes, and almost always stayed out of arguments.  “Because not a single man here would be impressed by that.”

            Hourai scowled.  “Oh come on.  I know I’m not the only one who found the brat annoying.”

            “He is annoying, but he is useful,” said Miyoshi.  “As opposed to being annoying and un-useful.”

            And again, the insult just bounced off Hourai’s head.  The man was honestly so dense, Jitsui didn’t know why Yuuki hadn’t just cut him solely on the grounds of being unable to figure out anything that didn’t fit his stupidly narrow world view.

            “You should get used to speaking of him in the past tense, Miyoshi,” said Hourai.  “I’m pretty sure Lt. Colonel Yuuki decided to send him home.”

            “What did you do?” asked Fukumoto.  The look he gave Hourai was dark.

            “I didn’t particularly do anything.  But he was cheating.  He found some way around succumbing to the truth serum,” said Hourai.

            “If he really did, Lt. Colonel Yuuki wouldn’t throw him out for it,” said Amari, looking at Hourai distastefully.  “He’d give him a gold star.”

            “Hatano!” Tazaki called out suddenly, standing up.

            All eyes went to the cafeteria’s entrance, where Hatano had just entered. 

            “Over here,” Tazaki called, motioning him over.

            Hatano nodded, then pointed toward the sideboard where their food was set up.

            “No, just get over here,” Tazaki called insistently.

            Looking confused, Hatano obeyed.  One of his eyes was a little swollen, they saw, and he moved with a slight stiffness that was uncharacteristic of him, and a little less of his cat-like grace.  But other than that, he didn’t look much worse for wear.  And there was nothing trodden down or defeated about him.

            Tazaki stood up, giving Hatano his place beside Jitsui.

            “I didn’t touch my food yet.  You have it.  I’ll grab some more.”

            “Thanks, Tazaki,” said Hatano, allowing Tazaki to press him down into his seat.  “Hi everyone.  Sorry to keep you waiting.”

            “Were you busy packing your bags?” asked Hourai.

            “You know perfectly well I was off getting x-rayed.”

            Jitsui reached under the table to grab Hatano’s hand.  “Why?”

            “Well, before Hourai lost it and Lt. Colonel Yuuki ended our session early, on account of him getting three strikes, Hourai managed to crack two of my ribs,” Hatano said.  He smiled at Jitsui and squeezed his hand.  “It’s nothing to worry about.”

            “You should be worried about getting thrown out for cheating,” said Hourai.

            “You got three strikes during your torture session?” asked Miyoshi, directing the conversation in a different direction.  “Did you go in there drunk?  Or were you deliberately trying to make a fool of yourself in front of Lt. Colonel Yuuki?”

            “Neither.  I just chose to be aggressive, is all.  I think the Lt. Colonel respected –”

            “He made you stand in a corner,” said Hatano.

            Kaminaga had just taken a drink of juice.  He choked and spit it out all over Hourai.  Maybe accidentally.  Or maybe not. 

            “Hey!”

            “Oh!  Sorry!  But did Lt. Colonel Yuuki really make you stand in a corner?”

            Jitsui only half listened to Hourai’s obviously lying protests.  He directed the majority of his attention toward Hatano, who picked at his food with his chopsticks, but didn’t seem to be too hungry.  He still held Hatano’s other hand in his own.  He twined his fingers through Hatano’s, and leaned a bit closer to him, so that their shoulders were touching.  Then he picked up his chopsticks with his left hand, and began using them to eat, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite either.  Their training had definitely entered its most brutal phase yet.  And Jitsui was a little worried about what the future held for him.  They’d known this was coming.  Yuuki had warned them the very first day.  But Jitsui hadn’t expected it would be a problem for him.  He hadn’t expected to make any friends during spy training.

            Well, it still wouldn’t be a problem, Jitsui vowed to himself.  Everyone who was still here could stand up to a little pain.  Except probably Hourai, who was lying to himself if he thought otherwise.  As long as they didn’t have to permanently damage each other, Jitsui was sure all of his friends would be okay.  The only thing that really bothered him was that he wasn’t likely to get a chance at Hourai.  On the schedule for the sessions, Hourai was Jitsui’s very last victim.  No one was expecting Hourai to make it through more than two sessions before he cracked.  The only reason he wasn’t expected to break in his very first one was because he was scheduled with Fukumoto.  And Fukumoto, despite looking big and scary, was actually just a big softie.  But his next session would be with Miyoshi.  And Miyoshi had made no secret of the fact that he didn’t like Hourai.  Except that was still a secret to Hourai himself.  Because he was so dense.

 

* * *

 

 

            But later that night, Jitsui was given a gift.  A notice was pinned up on the door of their dormitory.  An announcement about a scheduling change in their torture and truth serum sessions.  Yuuki had made the decision to rearrange the schedule, because Hatano’s cracked ribs made it necessary to delay his next few sessions.  And by a happy coincidence, Hourai became Jitsui’s very first victim.

 

* * *

 

 

            Hourai was nervous.  Jitsui could tell.  He was trying to pretend like he wasn’t, but he was not a great actor.  He’d managed to make it this far in D-Agency’s training, based off book smarts, good reflexes, and very good athletic health.  But he would make it no further.  Jitsui would make sure of that.

            “So what’s it going to be?” asked Hourai, when the black bag came off.  “A whip?  Or maybe a paddle?  Are you going to spank me?”

            “Nothing so nice,” said Jitsui, from his perch on top of the table.

            “You think you can do worse?” Hourai scoffed.  “Maybe you’re going to try beating me with your fists?  That’s a bad idea.  Your skinny little arms can’t do any real damage to me.”

            “It’s amazing how painful some little things can be,” said Jitsui cryptically.

            Hourai laughed.  “You’re mad, aren’t you?  About what I did to your little age-mate?”

            “Whether I’m mad or not is irrelevant,” said Jitsui.  “I’ve been given an assignment.  And I mean to see it through.  That said, I can’t deny that I’m going to enjoy it.”

            He slid off the table and reached into the paper bag he’d left on the floor.

            “Honey?” asked Hourai.  “You think you can hurt me with honey?”

            “Honey is a very versatile substance.  It has so many uses,,” said Jitsui.  “I’ve read all about them.  It’s actually an active ingredient in a number of Ancient Chinese firework and explosive recipes.  And it has a number of health benefits, in addition to all its uses in the culinary arts.  But you know, it also has another very useful purpose.  It makes great bait.”

            “What are you going to do?  Smother me with it?” Hourai sneered.

            “Again.  Nothing so nice,” said Jitsui.  He walked around behind the table and pushed it forward.  And he saw Hourai’s eyes widen in slight alarm.  But Jitsui didn’t ram him with the table as he had rammed Hatano.  Instead he slid it just close enough so that he could transfer Hourai’s hands to the cuffs that were built into the table.  And he placed a pen and a piece of paper on it.

            “You’re not going to be able to speak very well, once I get started on you,” Jitsui said.  “But written confessions are also an acceptable means of surrender.  Simply write the organization that has been training you, and your primary instructor’s name.”

            “You don’t scare me,” laughed Hourai.              “Because I’m so small?” asked Jitsui, giving his angel smile.

            “Exactly.”

            Jitsui reached into his bag again and pulled out a sealed jar.  Inside it was literally swarming with tiny red insects.  “Ants are small too.”

            “Wait.  What – no, you can’t –”

            Jitsui shoved a ring gag in his mouth, then stepped behind his head to properly fasten it.  While he was behind him, he spoke softly in the hated man’s ear.  “For the record, this was one of the first plans I came up with for torturing, but discarded, because it seemed too extreme to use on a future comrade.  But then you went and hurt Hatano.  And I decided that you would never be a comrade of mine.”

            Hourai tried to talk around his gag.

            “What’s that?  Are you scared now?” asked Jitsui, as he opened the jar of honey.

            Hourai kept trying to talk.  He was clearly frantic.

            Jitsui poured half the jar of honey over Hourai’s head, and watched the thick amber liquid trickle down his face, chest, and back.  He’d taken the liberty of removing Hourai’s shirt before the black bag came off.  But he’d left the older man’s pants on.  After all, Jitsui wasn’t a complete savage. 

            Then again . . .

            Jitsui grabbed Hourai’s chin and forced his head back, then poured the rest of the jar into his mouth.  Hourai tried to splutter and close his mouth, but the ring gag did its job.  He choked a bit, as the honey trickled down his throat.

            Then Jitsui let him chase the honey down with a mouthful of ants.

            Hourai’s scream was music.  If music sounded like a squealing pig.  Which, on occasion, it could, Jitsui decided, as he walked around the man to sprinkle ants overtop his head, down his back, and on his shoulders as well. 

            There was nothing quite like watching your hated enemy devolve into a writhing, screaming, sobbing mess of tears, honey, and ants, Jitsui thought, as he took a seat on the corner of the table, to watch the show.  In fact, Jitsui was certain he’d outdone himself.  Hourai sounded like he was trying to beg.  It suited him.  Jitsui let him carry on for ten minutes, and it still hadn’t gotten old.  But Jitsui was a professional.  He had a mission now.

            “You do remember how I told you that you could stop this, right?” asked Jitsui.  “Maybe you don’t.  You seem to be in a lot of pain, over there, squealing like a pig.  So I’ll remind you.”  He pushed the paper and pen closer to Hourai’s hands, where they were cuffed on the table with just enough slack to write a confession.  “All you have to do is write down the name of the organization that trained you.  And your teacher’s name.  Either one is supposed to be alright on its own, but I’m only accepting it if you write both.  Half measures are only for people who want more ants poured down their throats.”

            Hourai scratched at the desk and the paper before finally managing to pick up the pen.  Then he started scribbling characters as fast as he could.  His sobs and choked screams never stopped, the whole time.  Jitsui smirked as he watched over Hourai’s shoulder, as Hourai formed the words.

 

            D-Agency

            Lt. Col. Yuuki.

 

            Jitsui took the paper and held it up toward the room’s single lightbulb, as though he needed a little extra help reading it.  “Well . . . that’ll do it . . .  I suppose.  You have horrible penmanship, by the way.”

            Hourai sobbed something at him.  It sounded like a plea for mercy.

            Jitsui walked toward the door.  “Well, I guess the session’s over.  I better follow protocol, and hand this over to Lt. Colonel Yuuki.  He’ll send someone to release you soon.”

            “Mmrhpagah!” Hourai cried.

            “I just said, I have to follow protocols,” said Jitsui.  “You know the torturer  isn’t allowed to uncuff their subject themselves, once the session ends.  It’s for my own safety.  Not that I have anything to worry about from you.”

            He left             Hourai screaming and sobbing behind him.  Lt. Colonel Yuuki met him in the hall and held out his hand for the confession.  Jitsui showed it to him, but was reluctant to hand it over.

            “I was kind of hoping I could keep it.”

            Yuuki gave him a look.  Jitsui handed it over. 

            “Jitsui.”

            “Sir?”

            A slight smile crossed Lt. Colonel Yuuki’s face.  “Well done.”

 

* * *

 

 

           Jitsui stopped in the doorway of the dormitory to watch Hatano.  “I’m not sure you should be jumping on Hourai’s bed like that.”

            Hatano gave a droopy eyed grin, as he hung weightlessly in the air for a moment, before dropping down and springing up off the mattress again.  “It’s not like he needs it anymore.”

            “I don’t care about Hourai or the bed.  I care about you,” said Jitsui.  “Your ribs are still healing.”

            “They’re just cracked,” said Hatano, continuing to jump up and down.  “Not broken.”

            “Cracked means that they’re broken, just not broken into multiple pieces,” pointed out Jitsui.

            Hatano gave a midair shrug.  “I know.  But they don’t bother me.”

            “Well they bother me,” said Jitsui.  “Please come down.”

            Hatano bounced off the mattress one final time, then somersaulted in the air before landing on the floor, as agile as a cat.  “Only because it’s you asking.”

            Jitsui barely had time to beam before Hatano surged forward, flinging his arms around him.

            “Whoa!” Jitsui stumbled in surprise, but Hatano braced him up.

            “Good job with Hourai,” said Hatano.  “I’m glad the schedule got changed around.  Having cracked ribs was so worth it.”

            “Huh?” Jitsui was confused.  “You sound like you were worried about something.”

            “Of course I was,” Hatano said, still squeezing Jitsui.  “Violence only ever escalates.  Especially when someone realizes that they like causing pain.  It didn’t matter if Hourai got three strikes during my session.  He was only going to get worse.”

            Oh.  Jitsui suddenly realized why Hatano had seemed so troubled during dinner, the night Hourai had cracked his ribs.  He was worried.  Hourai had been scheduled for a session of torturing Jitsui in another two weeks.  Hatano had been worried about what would happen.

            Carefully, Jitsui wrapped his arms around Hatano, returning the hug, but lightly, so there was no danger of irritating Hatano’s ribs, and patted him on the back. 

            “We should celebrate by jumping on Hourai’s bed some more,” said Hatano.

            Jitsui scowled and tilted his head, nipping at Hatano’s ear, and eliciting a startled squeak, from Hatano, who had been expecting nothing of the sort.  “Nice try.”

 

* * *

 

 

Notes: Hatano strikes me as the kind of guy who would like jumping on beds, lol.  And that paper with Hourai’s confession on it that Jitsui gave to Yuuki?  That ended up in Yuuki’s scrapbook.  Though his first instinct was to put it on the refrigerator.  Seriously though, lol, my headcanon is that Yuuki’s started keeping little mementos of his spies, the same way all of them have been bringing back mementos from their missions.  Hatano clearly pocketed that piece of metal Marie used to tamper with the gun. The OVA ending shows Tazaki hasn’t given up pigeon keeping as a hobby.  Our boys clearly like souvenirs, and I don’t think Yuuki’s an exception, lol.

 

I think I’m confusing some people by suddenly writing a lot this week, when I said I was going on hiatus, so I’ll explain real quick here. I’m moving out of my apartment next week, and so I’d been working really hard to finish Hatano’s Arc in my Casino AU fic.  And I did, last Saturday. :) But I’d originally thought I’d be moving earlier, and took this week, and next week off work for it. Then life happened, lol, and our move got a bit delayed again. So this week is a pretty chill week for me, with no work, and most things already packed, because we’ve been preparing for awhile. Which means more writing can get done this week! (My comment about sleeping for half a week after I finished Hatano’s Arc wasn’t serious.  I slept in late the next day, but I don’t have Tazaki-level napping powers, lol)  I’m going to try to update Spy Games once more before I move, and there will also be one more (nice long) update to the Casino AU fic before my hiatus, to hopefully tide my readers over until my return. :)

 

I hope everyone enjoyed this latest bit of sadistic!Jitsui being sadistic.  And thank you again Tivanny and Jimmi for all you’ve done for me! :D

 

PS: Don’t forget to check out Tivanny’s newest pic. You know you want to see Jitsui tormenting Hatano with more hot peppers! <http://tivanny2292.tumblr.com/image/148688070376>

 

PPS: Since this chapter was posted, Tivanny drew another picture, inspired by the first scene in this chapter.  If you want to see Hatano tied up and bleeding, but still smirking his defiance at Hourai, check out her new fan art: [http://tivanny2292.tumblr.com/post/149744778726/for-i-dedicate-this-kill-to-the-fans!](http://tivanny2292.tumblr.com/post/149744778726/for-i-dedicate-this-kill-to-the-fans)

 


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